


Make It Count

by sottovocexo



Category: Hart of Dixie
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, OTP Feels, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sottovocexo/pseuds/sottovocexo
Summary: Wade and Zoe share a moment during a late-night drive.





	Make It Count

**Author's Note:**

> Another ficlet I wrote before finishing season one. Imagining this takes place sometime in the first season while Wade and Zoe are both growing up.

“Is nothing here open late?” I cry.

“How long you been here, doc? It’s Blue Bell. Nothing here’s open past 5.” 

Wade puts the car in park when we get nowhere, my desperate ice-cream cravings unfulfilled. Blue Bell was growing on me, but it was hard. Hard to live in a city that wasn’t going 24/7 like me. That wasn’t quite shaping up the way I hoped. 

We sit in silence, a stark difference from our old bickering. I look over at him.

“I feel like I haven’t been able to take a deep breath since New York,” I admit. “Like I’ve been stuck. Do I need a relationship with someone to be complete? Do I need to be a surgeon? Is everyone else right about me?”

“Look, Zoe, I’m no expert…” he says, shifting in his seat. “I don’t know what a real relationship looks like, or a career. I never had anyone to look up to, show me what’s right. But if I’ve ever seen someone giving it their best shot, it’s you. That counts for something.”

I smile. “You’re a pretty good listener, you know that? A better listener than ice cream, anyway.”

Wade smiles softly, his brow furrowed, his eyes burrowed into mine. 

Lately, I’ve seen another man underneath all the immaturity, the fighting, the sparks. A man who stays late to talk, who’s always available and sometimes says sorry too. A man who’s hurting - and, sure, maybe he’s more like a wounded gator than a puppy dog, but he’s working through it. It counts for something. 

Maybe it was the dim streetlights. Or maybe I didn’t mistake the look in his eyes. I can’t help it if I can’t stop thinking about more. 

“Wade…” I look up at him, a man softer than everyone sees. A man who’s trying. 

But he doesn’t follow my lead. Instead, he leans back in his seat, leaving me breathless. Hand on the wheel, key in the ignition. “I may not know a lot…but I want to do this right. That much I know.”

When Wade starts the car, I see a new man and I can't stop looking. Can’t help it if I want to try again. If I want to make it count.


End file.
